


Warning signs

by passionario, Woljf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, translated from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7765918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionario/pseuds/passionario, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woljf/pseuds/Woljf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have all the others.”<br/>“With them I must be strong. With you I can be weak too.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warning signs

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Уранометрия](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530970) by [passionario](https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionario/pseuds/passionario). 



Lance pulled off his dirty overalls and dropped them on the floor. He felt lousy. Why did he draw the lot? Anyway, whose idea it was to draw lots, why couldn’t somebody just say — hey, this planet’s got lots of water, Lance, water is your element, you go. At least that would have some logic.  
Lance got into the shower and checked that the temperature was set right. It wasn’t all that necessary, but it became a habit. After his second to last stay in the healing pod he started to have problems with temperature perception. Coran thought it was due to the fact that Lance had been in the pod more often than the others. Some time ago the castle’s technologies seemed incredible to them, almost like magic. Now Lance felt only emptiness.  
He looked down. Today there was only dirt, no blood.  
Lance hated blood. He hated that he was used to the sight of blood. That he was used to the thought of never seeing his family again. That his friends became his family. He loved them very much, but that wasn’t how his life was supposed to be.  
He hated himself at moments like this.  
He remembered sometimes how on lectures they were told that in the past people were sent to space missions only for short time, because they could not stand loneliness for long. And space adventures in tv-shows always looked cool, but after six years in space Lance couldn’t remember anything cool.  
Except maybe for the healing pod, without which he would have been long dead. But the pod couldn’t heal everything. He couldn’t tell the difference between warm and cold, he had a nasty scar from a burn on his back, and one more — from ear to collar bone; it was probably his closest-to-death experience. There were more scars, of course.  
Sometimes Lance wondered, where he had more, on his body or on his soul.  
He got out of the water and wrapped a towel around himself. The smart shower could have just dried him with hot air, but Lance liked everything to be simple. He liked the feeling of the towel on his skin; he could feel the air on his skin, but he didn’t feel its temperature, and that was annoying.  
Keith was sitting on his bed when he came back to his cabin. Perhaps the water drowned the sound of him coming in.  
“I thought you will be back in a few days,” Lance tried to smile, but he did think that Keith would be back in a few days. In a few days he would be able to smile, but not now.  
“It all went not as we planned,” Keith answered without turning his eyes off him. Lance turned to take some clothes from his wardrobe.  
“But you didn’t get hurt?” he tried to add some smile to the words, as if he looked forward with joy to make fun of Keith’s clumsiness or whatever. Once Lance knew how to do it, but now not so much.  
Everything was simple with Keith, Keith couldn’t do difficult at all, and Lance always tried to make everything more difficult than it was.  
Keith was strong, and Lance was stupid.  
“No.”  
He heard fabric rustling, then steps; Keith hugged Lance from behind and kissed the top of his head.  
Sometimes it seemed to Lance that thoughts of home were like a berth, and Lance himself was a ship, and they were connected with a thick cable. But the more time passed, the more it stretched and the closer was the moment when the cable rips and the storm drags the ship into the open sea.  
Keith was the storm.  
Keith was the berth, Keith was the cable.  
Keith became his eye of the storm, and suddenly Lance had a feeling, that if he didn’t hold him, he could have flied up. As if their gravity regulators were out of order again.  
Lance never missed Keith when he was away. Longing washed over him whenever Keith came back, as if Lance wasn’t alive while he was away, and then resurrected and relived everything that his memory kept in dry data.  
“Talk to me”, Keith called.  
And Lance talked: how they drew lots for a planet foray, how Hunk made pancakes the other day, and how the day before that Katie burnt her fringe. Three days ago, four, ten. Lance kept talking, and all along Keith held him, and he was warm. The only warmth that Lance was able to feel came from Keith. Oh, the irony.  
Lance turned and threw his head back. There was a time when he took joy in being taller, but then everything changed, and the joy stuck in his throat like a bone. But Lance learnt how to be happy again.  
Keith’s eyes never became golden. They were of light bronze color, and shone like amber soaked in sunlight. Maybe that was why he was so hot that even Lance felt it. Maybe it was just Lance’s imagination.  
He remembered the shock when they understood that Keith was Galra. And that wasn’t due to some experiments, they weren’t attacked, it wasn’t forced... Well, they fought, and it was the first Keith was injured seriously enough for Allura to put him into the healing pod. The pod restored him more than was necessary — it activated his latent Galra genetic code. Just like that they made him this way. They. Themselves.  
Funny, how the thing between them two started only after that.  
What was it called, five stages of accepting death? Five stages of accepting that your friend belongs to the race which tries to enslave the whole universe. More like five stages of accepting himself, because it meant nothing to Lance. Now Keith had lilac skin and ears, big and totally ridiculous, which gave away his emotions more clearly than a flashing sign above his head would. And he was also covered with short fur — fluff? And Lance seemed to be lost the moment when he grabbed Keith by his wrist as he was running away.  
He tried to hold him, but it seemed like he was holding himself, because since then he was constantly falling, almost flying, losing himself.  
Keith pulled Lance after him to the bed, sat down again and pressed his cheek to Lance’s stomach. Sometimes Lance thought that they were both sick and broken beyond hope. How can somebody like that save the world? But saving others was much easier than saving themselves.  
He buried his fingers in Keith’s hair, stroked at the base of his ears; they twitched in response to the caress. Lance felt the other’s breath on his stomach. Once he would feel ticklish, but now all he felt was the heat inside, because Keith pulled off his towel and watched. He often said that Lance was too thin, but even Hunk lost all of his nice softness through the years. As for Lance, he turned into a figure made of intertwining cords — all muscles, and skin, and bones. He was always lean despite whatever all the women in his family tried, but years of battles turned his porcelain into titanium.  
He let go of that thought as Keith’s palm passed from Lance’s knee, where he had a crimson scar, which occasionally made his leg difficult to bend, up to the thigh. Lance thought, he would die in the few days they had been planning for. He had this thought every time when Keith came back (beating like a bird in his head — to me, he comes back to me). It’s bad without Keith, but it’s clear only when he’s near, when Lance can feel the warmth again, when Keith bends down and envelopes his cock with his mouth.  
With a wheezy breath Lance clasped at Keith’s shoulders and rested his good knee against the mattress. He pushed deeper into Keith’s mouth; a though of his fangs melted like an ice cream under the sun, and Lance drowned in this cold sticky sweetness. Fingers touched his anus, massaged it — and Keith inserted two at once. And Lance moaned in relief. He needed more, much more, to find some peace, but for the moment it was enough. They weren’t together for more than a month.  
Keith took his time because he knew how much Lance wanted him. He knew how much Lance hated waiting, so he did everything unbearably slow. ‘Cause that was so logical. Lance was almost crying when Keith released his cock and pulled out his fingers from his ass. He came when Keith bit him on the inner side of his thigh. Sharp teeth ripped through the thin skin, Lance felt Keith’s rough tongue lick away the blood, and he came again, falling then limp into Keith's lap. His legs didn’t support him anymore.  
“You were away for so long”, he complained, thoughtlessly touching the tips of Keith’s ears.  
“Less than I could’ve been”, Keith was brushing him from knee to thigh and back again.  
Taking Keith’s face in his hands, Lance kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his nose; he was kissing his face, thrilled with the feel of his skin with short and soft fur under his lips. He liked touching Keith so much, liked how he pressed him into the mattress, liked that the activation of Galra genes made Keith bigger and heavier, because all this made everything more real.  
He raised himself on his knees, so that Keith could unzip his fucking pants and take out his cock, so that Lance could finally feel it inside. He slid his hand back and guided it into him. He clenched his teeth as the head passed in, because despite all preparation Keith’s cock was too big. And that was so right, so good. Blinking tears away, Lance slid down further; it seemed to last eternally, but then Keith hugged him, not letting him move, whispered something into his ear. He swayed just a little, stretching Lance more. He didn’t know for how long they sat like that, how long he suffered wishing to come but not being able to, before Keith finally dropped him onto the bed, threw Lance’s leg over his shoulder and started moving.  
The world around became unbearably white, as if Lance was blinded by a solar flare. He finally lost himself in the feelings, in time, in Keith. He was everything what Lance needed in this world, he was his entire world.  
...came to himself, when Keith slid into his bathtub and brought Lance’s back on his chest.  
“I don’t like it when you’re gone for so long”, Lance laced their fingers together, brought them up to his lips and kissed. “Feels like stars going out.”  
“You have all the others.”  
“With them I must be strong. With you I can be weak too,” Lance put his head on Keith’s shoulder.  
Some time ago he would rather strangle himself than say something like this. Space breaks people and makes stars go out for them, unless they start shining in somebody else’s eyes. Lance searched for so long, but as it turned out, he had been tied to the berth since long ago. And there were his stars, his lighthouse, his eye of the storm.

**Author's Note:**

> If you find a fault with my English, don't hesitate to tell me so.


End file.
